Almost Like A Song
by Ms. SpearBourne
Summary: A series of snapshots and vignettes spanning the relationship of Gregory House and Aileen Becker. Grayla-angst.
1. Young Girl

_A/N: I've finally decided to start posting my _Becker-House_ fics here again. I had taken them down because I wanted to rewrite them, which I am still in the process of doing.  
I wasn't sure at which point in their relationship I should begin posting these; I have a bunch of stories/plot bunnies from which to choose, but the night they met seemed liked a fitting place to start. The rest of my "Grayla" fics will be posted eventually as I finish polishing them.  
_

* * *

**Setting: Johns Hopkins, one of the dorms. It's the middle of the night, not long after Aileen and House first met, Friday, 13 May 1988**

Gregory Joseph House lay awake in bed, staring up at the ceiling, the night's events replaying ceaselessly in his head.

She had been there. He had gone there specifically so he could meet her, at the behest of one of his professors. Her dress had been so simple, elegant on her frame. Her dark hair had been delightfully free of all the styling products every other woman he knew seemed to enjoy piling on these days.

And her face! It was so refreshing to be able to see a woman's face unobscured by a palette of garish colours.

She was the kind of person who would rather cut through all the bull shit and façades and masks; he could tell that right away.

And so he'd been himself.

He hadn't blundered his way through her first impression of him. He didn't try to charm her or pretend to be some nice guy that might have had a chance at wooing her.

Yet she hadn't been put off by him. Or by his _assitude_, as a girl he'd once known had called it.

No, this woman - a teenager, really, he reminded himself - was different. She saw past all that he let the world see of him and managed to look into his . . . Damn it all, she saw into his _soul_.

He had invited her out to dinner - to escape that boring party meant for some pre-med students to impress potential future employers - even though he knew she wasn't even seventeen yet. That wasn't for another week. And what would she see in him, anyway? He wasn't anything special.

He was just a case study to her, of course. Just another patient for her to treat. He had to remember that.

He glanced over at the red glowing numbers of the clock.

It had been an hour since he'd walked her to her dorm and he still couldn't stop thinking about her smile.

He turned on the radio. Maybe music would calm his mind so he could get a few hours of sleep.

_Young girl, get out of my mind. My love for you is way out of line._

Damn.

* * *

Aileen Layla Becker sat at the desk in her room. She was prone to bouts of insomnia, so she was wont to take advantage of her sleepless nights to get some work done. She was scribbling notes for a case study she was just starting.

The moment she'd met him, she could see a tortured soul and a genius bordering on madness lurking behind those blue eyes.

Oh, she could drown in those blue eyes . . .

She couldn't put that in her notes, of course. Those thoughts had been entrusted to her diary, safely tucked away in a locked drawer. There were many things about that night that were only admitted to those secret pages and not her files.

Why her father had insisted she should meet Gregory House, she couldn't reason out in her head, but she was fascinated by him instantly. Oh, she knew what her father had told her, that he had a promising student who showed great potential. He just needed to work on his bedside manner.

The look on John Becker's face when he realised that Aileen and Gregory had spent the better part of the night together told her that he'd had no idea there might have been any sparks between the two of them. He'd looked almost appalled at the sight of the pair dancing as closely as they had been.

She shook her head at her own foolishness. Of course there was nothing between her and Gregory! There was the age difference to consider, not to mention that she was under-aged. A minor who was majoring in pre-med. And besides, what could he possibly see in her, anyway? She was just a child in his eyes, surely.

She was a psychologist; he was her patient. He'd agreed to let her do a case study on him over the summer because . . . because he had nothing better to do? Because he was bored?

She told herself it didn't matter _why_. She had to maintain a professional distance. Otherwise, the summer wouldn't go well.

Not well at all.

She switched her radio on and tuned to a random station, hoping to rein in her emotions the way her Aunt Lilith had taught her. _'Deep breath, slow and steady.'_

_Better run, girl. You're much too young, girl._

Damn.

* * *

_Song credit: "Young girl, get out of my mind; my love for you is way out of line. Better run girl; you're much too young, girl." Those are the first two lines from Young Girl, written and produced by Jerry Fuller, recorded by Gary Puckett and the Union Gap, released March 1968. There have been numerous covers, including a Hebrew-language version entitled, coincidentally enough, Layla (Night), by Israeli rock band, Noar Shulayim._


	2. Crimson & Clover

_A/N: __Young Girl__ was just going to be a one-shot, but I've decided to go ahead and turn it into a series of vignettes and snapshots throughout Gregory and Layla's lives. Fair warning, though, there is a lot of turmoil in their relationship._  
_Let's jump back a few hours now. _

_13 May 1988, at a social event at Johns Hopkins_

Gregory House was annoyed. He hadn't even intended to go to this thing as it was only a networking type of mixer for students and alumni. But one of his professors, one Dr. John Becker, had egged him into attending by convincing him that he would meet a lovely young woman who possessed some unique talents.

So House had shaved and put on a suit and went to the damned party that Becker was so keen on. "Fine, I'm here," he mumbled. "So where's this girl you want to hook me up with?"

"I said _introduce_ to you. I'm not in the habit of ensuring a _fun night_ for my students. Just, uh, hold your horses, there. She's pretty popular. About to go off to Harvard Med come fall. She's, uh, she's really something, you know?" the older man seemed almost proud of this woman.

House wondered what made her so special and just how his professor knew she was _'really something,'_ as he'd called her. He scanned the room briefly, searching for anyone else worth talking to when he spotted a woman who took his breath away.

_Only for today, I am unafraid. Take my breath away . . ._ drifted from the speakers. She was surrounded by people, mingling, smiling, laughing, conversing.

"Oh!" Becker cried out, mildly surprised. "There she is. Let's go steal her away from the crowd before someone else does."

He had been entranced by her. He hadn't counted on her to look so charming, so captivating . . . So alluring.

As House and Becker crossed the room, House couldn't help but think that, before too long, he could fall in love with her. _'Damn songs keep seeping into my mind,'_ he silently cursed. _'Can't the DJ play something that won't coincide with what I'm feeling?_

Becker cleared his throat before speaking. He hoped this would go well. "Gregory House, this is Aileen Becker. My daughter."

House's jaw dropped. _Daughter?_ "Oh, uh, it's . . . a pleasure to meet you, Eileen," he stammered as he took the hand she offered; it was small and delicate, a complete contrast to his large, calloused digits. "Dr. Becker's been telling me you're heading off to Harvard. You don't like Hopkins?"

"Oh, well, of course, I like Hopkins. It's been home for the last couple of years. But I've wanted to go to Harvard since I was a child. It is, after all, where both my parents went to medical school." She smiled as though he should understand her pride in that fact. "And you, Doctor House? What are your plans?"

Why was she so interested in what he would do? What did she want from him? "Um, I finish my final year of med school next year."

"And after that?" she prompted.

"I . . . Uh . . . haven't really thought that far ahead. Whatever happens, happens, I guess, Eileen."

She seemed satisfied with his answer and nodded, a curious look on her face.

Aileen was standing near her father, and a waiter came by with a wine flute for her. Noticing his concerned look, she told him, "It's just ginger ale, Dad."

"Why would it matter? You an alcoholic?" House asked with a certain level of snarkiness.

_'He's not one for the trivialities of small talk,_ she made a mental note. _'Hmm, does not seem comfortable socialising . . . '_ She gazed up at him with a funny little smirk. "No, more like I'm only seventeen. Or," she rectified as she gestured with her glass, "I will be next week."

_'Only seventeen, huh? And I know what that means,'_ House thought grimly to himself. _'That song fits even better than I'd thought. Another year before dating her wouldn't be illegal. Like she'd date a guy like me anyway. She could have her pick of men, someone without my . . . . issues.'_

But something in the way she looked at him made him wonder.

Becker had seen that expression before. About twenty years ago, when he was a student at Harvard. He smiled to himself, remembering when he and Sarah had met. _'Ohohoho, nohoho!'_ he thought to himself with horror. His only little girl was absolutely not going to get involved with someone like Gregory House. For one thing, he was several years older; for another, he was highly opinionated and self-centred. And for another, she . . . well, she just wasn't and that's all there was to it.

Then again, he had introduced them in the hope that Aileen could help House overcome that G-d-complex and almost insatiable need to find a puzzle everywhere he looked. But, just because she helped him with whatever psychological or emotional issues he had did not mean that they would get romantically involved! She'd likely have a few counselling sessions with him over the summer and be done with him. Yes, that was how it would go. Then Leenie would be at Harvard, safely away from House.

What Becker saw next nearly had him screaming. But, no, he had to maintain his composure and not make a scene.

House held a hand out to Aileen and asked "Shall we?" Granted, the song was a fairly old one, but, when he'd noticed she was swaying and humming along with the music, he wanted to know what it felt like to hold her in his arms. Even if the dreamy expression on her face was brought about by the song, he could pretend it was because she enjoyed dancing with him.

_Now I don't hardly know her  
But I think I could love her . . .  
My mind's such a sweet thing  
I wanna do ev-er-ything  
What a beautiful feeling  
Crimson and clover_

The way they moved together was nothing short of amazing. Despite the disparity in their heights, they fit as though they had been made for each other.

"So, Eileen, did your dad tell you why he wanted us to meet?"

"Well, Gregory," she noticed the odd look in his eyes as she called him by his first name. "I guess I should be honest with you about that. He wanted us to meet because . . ." She gulped as she considered how to word this. "He said you have the makings of a great doctor."

"But?" He'd heard this before.

"But . . . You lack tact; he also said you don't have the best bedside manner," she began slowly. "And, since I"m a psychologist, he thought I might be able to help you with that. Would you be at all amenable to that?" She held her breath, fearing he would be upset and never want to see her again. If he had the intelligence her father had said he did, she didn't want to miss the opportunity to have many conversations with him.

House's brow furrowed. "So he asked his own daughter to try to . . . to fix me?"

"I never said you needed fixing, Gregory. But I do think you may have some issues that-"

"That what?" A few people near them turned their way to see what had him raising his voice, but House could not have cared less who heard. He was tired of shrinks being sent by people that had no idea what went on in his head. "That you could delve into my childhood and - and dig around in my psyche to find the scared, trembling little boy who just wants a hug? Is THAT WHAT YOU THOUGHT?" His voice had quickly risen and she was visibly shaken by his outburst. "Damn," he muttered. "I - I'm sorry. Come on, Eileen, let's go someplace else and talk about this."

She scoffed lightly at the mention of a song she could barely stand. "I hate that song," she whispered.

"Hmm?" he asked as he led to a hallway.

"_Come On, Eileen._ I mean, my name starts with an A, but it's pronounced the same way. You wouldn't believe how much I got teased when that song came out." She had quickly regained control of her emotions.

"Ah, so it's _Aileen Becker_, not Eileen Becker. Sounds the same."

She nodded with pursed lips. "So . . . What would you like to talk about, Gregory?"

"First, why do you keep calling me Gregory? No one calls me that. Well, my parents call me Greg, but everyone else just calls me House."

"Oh? I'm . . . I'm sorry, I - I didn't realise you didn't like being called by your first name. House," she added as an afterthought.

"Hmph. Does everyone call you Aileen?"

"Pretty much. Why?" she asked, genuinely curious as to why he would ask such a thing.

"Just curious. Do you . . . have . . . a middle name?" Maybe it was something embarrassing that she wouldn't want to be called.

"Layla, like the song."

House raised an eyebrow. He was shocked when she mirrored his expression. "Like the song, huh?"

"Yeah. Dad was playing that very album when my mother told him she was pregnant, and when that song - Layla - came on, it was the first time she felt me kick. So they named me Layla after the song."

"Layla," he murmured.

Something in the way he spoke her name made her knees weak. House was quick to catch her. "You all right?"

She gave him a shaky grin. "Yeah . . . just got a little dizzy's all," she fibbed. "I'm fine."

Becker chose that moment to go searching for them. Seeing House's arms around Aileen in what appeared to be an embrace had him seething. "Get. Your. Hands. Off. My. Daughter." Becker's voice was eerily level and calm. "Now."

"Dad, I got dizzy and he caught me. Don't wig out, huh?" Aileen remarked. "I think I'm OK now, House."

He leaned in close as he made sure she could stand on her own two feet. "Call me Gregory," he murmured, soft and low, into her ear.

_Song credits:  
When I Saw Her Standing There: written by John Lennon/Paul McCartney; recorded by The Beatles.  
Take My Breath Away: written by Giorgio Moroder, Tom Whitlock; recorded by Berlin.  
Crimson and Clover: written by Tommy James, Peter Lucia, Jr.; recorded by Tommy James and the Shondells._


	3. Blame It On The Bossa Nova

_26 November 1988_

He had to admit that she had been right. Coming out dancing at that jazz club _was_ fun. The bossa nova band playing that night could take any song and make it sultry and steamy.

It was during a particularly spicy song that he had dipped Layla, and her neck had curved so seductively that he took a chance he probably shouldn't have.

He kissed her.

It was just an innocent little touching of the lips. She had pulled away from him so quickly, though, that he thought he must have imagined that brief moment where she kissed him back.

Wide-eyed and mortified, heels clicking against the tiles, red skirt swishing around her knees, she ran out onto the veranda. Her breath was coming in shallow, raspy spurts. _'Not possible,'_ she told herself. Despite the unseasonably warm evening, she felt a chill course through her. _'Get it under control.'_

House's hands came to rest on her shivering shoulders, prompting her to turn.

"I can't believe you did that," she whispered.

"I - I'm sorry, Layla," he murmured.

Her eyes bored into his. "Do you regret doing it?"

He could've lied to her, said it was an accident, or stumbled over some other such nonsense. Instead, he merely shook his head. He couldn't lie to her. Not to Layla. He was a madman, but he was not an idiot.

She nodded her head once, then let out the breath she'd been holding. "I th- I think we should end our sessions. I know someone - I went to Hopkins with her - who -"

"I don't want anyone treating me but you," he interjected abruptly. They were both startled by the harshness of his tone. "Sor- I just . . . You're the only one who really knows me. You see through - " An idea struck him. "What if our counselling sessions were all over the phone?"

She turned to watch the sunset. "It's really beautiful, isn't it? The sweep of colours over the lake?" _'You can't be in love with him. He's your patient. He's House. He's not a nice man.'_

He hadn't even noticed anything around them in his worry over having driven her away. "Yes." He reached out to hold her.

Leaning back into him ever so slightly, she sighed happily. After a moment's peace, she finally whispered, "We should go back inside."

Reluctantly, he pulled away from her and waited as she readjusted her dress. As she headed for the door, he could swear she were hiding a smile. Six months he'd waited before even trying to kiss her. He could wait another six months before admitting his feelings for her and asking if she felt the same way.


End file.
